


Beneath Cold Stars

by oceanofdarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofdarkness/pseuds/oceanofdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heavy grey mist, alone together, Rumbelle ballroom dance</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Cold Stars

**Author's Note:**

> submitted for Round 1 of Rumbelle Showdown 2014 under pen name Bookworm

She is in the Enchanted Forest, that much she knows, though she hasn’t even a guess as to her whereabouts beyond that. A heavy grey mist surrounds her, making it impossible to get any sense of where she is or which way she is heading, but she keeps moving nevertheless. Her mind is clouded with confusion, but her feet are sure and carry her forward with purpose. She is still trying to puzzle out exactly how this could be, when she finds herself standing at the doors of the Dark Castle. She reaches out a hand and they open at her touch.

She smiles and blinks away a few tears. So like Rumplestiltskin to send her away and then make sure that his very home welcomes her upon her return. She steps inside and the doors fall closed behind her as she makes her way to the Great Hall in search of her love. She expects to find him at his spinning wheel, but it stands alone beside a hearth that has long since gone cold. A shiver runs along her spine and she hugs herself tightly and hurries from the room. Perhaps he is in his tower then? 

She climbs the stairs with increasing speed until she is running, breathless as she reaches the top. Rumplestiltskin is not there. She is unsure of the time, but perhaps it is late. Could he be asleep? She makes her way back down the stairs and moves through the corridor to his bedchamber, hesitating for a moment before summoning the courage to push at the door. She peers in, but finds no sign of the castle’s master here either.

She sighs. He must be out making some deal or other. Well, there’s nothing for it, she will simply have to wait. Perhaps she’ll make herself some tea then fetch a book from her library and wait for him by his wheel. When she returns to the main floor, she heads for the stairs down to the kitchens, but light from the end of the long hall catches her attention, and she moves towards it instead. Belle knows the room well. It is an enormous ballroom that saw little use during her time here. In fact, the only time she ever saw Rumplestiltskin go anywhere near it was when he came in to ‘supervise’ her cleaning, but as she looks in through the open doors now it is awash with the glow of what must be hundreds of candles. Her brow furrows in confusion for a moment, and then she sees him standing by the tall windows across the huge empty space, and her breath hitches in her chest. 

“Rumple?” she whispers. 

It is so soft she knows he couldn’t possibly have heard her, but he turns toward her just the same.

“Belle.” Those strange golden eyes that she loves so much are bright and the hint of a smile plays about the corner of his mouth, and then she is rushing across the distance to him and finds herself wrapped up in his arms as he holds her close and drops gentle kisses into her hair while she buries her face in the dark blue silk covering his chest.

“Please, Rumple, let me stay with you?” She asks it without looking up, not quite ready yet to see the answer on his face. He holds her tighter and chokes out a single word. “Forever.”

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He brings a hand up to stroke a flushed cheek. “I love you too.” He leans down, bringing his lips to hers in the most perfect kiss she can imagine, and when they break apart she offers him a radiant smile before nuzzling against the side of his neck with a contented sigh.

“Rumple?” she asks after a moment.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why were you in here?”

He cocks his head to one side, genuinely puzzled.

“I’m not sure,” he admits.

She pulls back to take the measure of his expression, see if he is teasing her, but it doesn’t seem that he is. How odd.

“You never had much use for the ballroom, Rumple. In all my time with you, the closest you ever came to a waltz was practically dancing away from me whenever we were alone together. Why this room? Why not your tower or your spinning wheel?”

He looks perplexed for another moment, but then mischief steals into his eyes. He grins at her and she feels his magic envelop her with a wave of his hand, looks down to see that she is suddenly in the golden ballgown she wore when they first met. He offers up a delighted giggle, and with another wave of his hand, the roof of the ballroom seems to disappear and she looks up to see a night sky filled with stars and hears the strains of a waltz begin to play. He holds out his hand with a shy smile.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” 

She lays her hand in his with a slight curtsey and he bows over it before sweeping her into his arms and guiding her across the floor, his eyes locked with hers. They dance until she is breathless, and she cannot contain a laugh of pure joy as he spins her out, but then it all goes horribly wrong. Instead of drawing her back into him, he gazes at her with such sadness, and then that awful mist seems to flood the ballroom. It washes over him and she feels his hand slip away from hers as she clutches at nothing but air.

“Rumple!” she screams, rushing forward to fill the empty space where he stood only moments before. “Rumple!” 

“Belle!” She hears the voice calling to her, but it is all wrong, and she whirls around in confusion. “Belle!” Hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “Belle, wake up!” Her eyes open, and Neal is there, kneeling over her by the last embers of a fire.

“Neal?”

“Yeah,” he says gently, offering her an uncertain smile. “You were dreaming. Calling out for my father.”

“Oh.” Her voice is small and so very sad, sudden hot tears spilling over her cheeks.

Her true love’s son slips an arm about her shoulders. “It’s ok,” he assures her. “It’ll be ok. Try to go back to sleep if you can, Belle. We should reach my dad’s place by nightfall tomorrow.”


End file.
